This is the last part of the Vindaloo curry...
Image by DarkWorkX from Pixabay
A PALE REFLECTION
A pale reflection of a master plan, nebulous and strange was caught out by a sudden rainstorm and so felt challenged to move further from an ideology that had its roots in stay in the dry or move and get wet.
So another plate of food was ordered to fill the gap the last one had left and the plan was changed to wait it out.
The descendants of all this, rallying to the cry of: No. 37 will save us, gave chase to the saving.
Several old partisans later on a row boat that leaked they all ran out of puff and went to sleep the sleep a little bit like a gang of crabs under a rock.
As they slept they blew bubbles to leave a clue as to where they could be found by anyone passing this little snippet that has nothing to do with anything at all really and so it will be left right here until it can make up its mind as to what it is.
Image by Todd Bublitz from Pixabay
ABANDON SHIP
The submarine had a leak, in fact it had many leaks, and if truth be known it was leaking like a sieve, so much so it was sinking and the time had come to let her go.
After so much effort to keep her afloat, Captain Morgan Jones reached for the tannoy and with regret informed the crew and passengers it was time to get off the boat and go home.
“Release all slaves, blow all ballast and prepare to abandon ship,” he said.
After putting down the tannoy he began the process of giving her up to the sea.
The submarine was sinking fast, the pumps unmanned as muscles and his gang of slaves in a stolen row-boat rowed away from the sinking sub that had come up to the surface for one final time to see the sunset and then sink to the bottom of the ocean to join the Titanic where the ghosts would go home and silence would be the order of the day.
And then it started raining money as the back door of the submarine opened and a dirigible with half the crew in it captained by Morgan Jones himself rose into the sky with money falling from a small hole in the suitcase strapped to its side.
“Abandon ship,” called Captain Morgan Jones through his megaphone.
Molly, the ship’s dog barked from her basket strapped to the other side of the dirigible, happy to be off on another adventure.
A second dirigible floated through the back door piloted by King Huw. Jimmy Jewls was manning the guns and calling out for more power, more power.
As it sailed into the sky they all looked down and saw the submarine sink below the surface and not far away from the bubbles of its passing a huge pile of rats on a raft nervously looking at the ship’s cat on another raft as the two rafts drifted together.
Image by Jean Martineau from Pixabay
TO THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN
The Vindaloo curry sank beneath the waves and was gone. She would sink to the bottom of the ocean to become covered in mud and preserved forever, and who knows maybe one day when the oceans rise up out of the sea again there she’ll be on the sand for someone else to find.
Image by Annie Spratt from Pixabay
COFFEE TIME
Meanwhile, on dry land in a field somewhere:
Racket Man was being overly friendly with the natives and getting many words in edgeways to lubricate the ole wheel of desire half an inch closer to where he wanted it to be.
The natives were amused by his suspense-full way of speech and were hanging on his every word, and a few had cameras and were taking his picture with flash to hang on their walls.
Behind them all was the flying carpet, hovering and ready for its inaugural first run.
While all this was going on Doris the muffin was brewing coffee over the camp fire and humming to herself an old song called snappers me fingers which was another way of saying we shall overcome and has nothing to do with him down below who is always gnashing his teeth and stoking the boilers while whistling doom.
When the coffee was ready she called out to everyone to come get it and then everything stopped for coffee.
Three lads who had wandered in to the party spotted the flying carpet and climbed on board to have some fun. One of them pressed the red button and the flying carpet zoomed off and gone leaving the party drinking coffee and none the wiser.
Image by Capri23auto from Pixabay
THE GHOST TRAIN
Up the valleys a ways:
Waiting under the promise of the 8.30 from the north to the south all intentions were a foolish pride for the ghost whose expectations of inspiration and aspiration had expired in the Maya they came from and now there was only the waiting.
“You can stay here forever if you want to,” said the station master who was also a ghost.
“I have a ticket and as soon as my train comes in I’ll be gone,” said the ghost in an old voice of forlorn wishes that had never come true.
“You’ll wait a long time then, the trains don’t stop here anymore, the line was abandoned years ago. All you’ll get now are weeds and rust, and the wind that blows through everything,” said the station master lighting up his pipe for a smoke.
As the hours passed and the weeds grew, the ghost went to sleep, and is waiting there now and will wait forever in the abandoned station for a train that will never come.
A small flying carpet whizzed past the station at a 100 miles an hour with Will, Nathan and John hanging on for dear life and was going too fast for anyone to notice.
A witch was chasing them to catch them up, but that’s for another story, this one's ended.
Images from Pixabay
